New Zealand’s weightlifter Laurel Hubbard has received a lot of press attention across the media spectrum for creating Olympic History on Monday’s women’s heavyweight competition by being the first out transgender woman to compete in the Olympics.

Outside of the plethora of transphobic news, when you look for news about Hubbard, mainstream outlets mainly seem interested in how Hubbard’s identity intersects with this historic moment in the Olympics, and it’s hard to learn anything else about her from a simple google search.

It seems like Hubbard has wanted to stay away from being boxed into a unidimensional identity, but the mainstream doesn’t seem to get the hint despite knowing that she would appreciate the privacy.

After her performance on Monday, Hubbard told a group of reporters: "I don't think it should be historic ... we are human, and as such I hope that just by being here, that's enough."

The buzz around Hubbard’s historic position reflects more on how we put trailblazers on stressful pedestals, often reducing them to their identity in ways they might not necessarily want.

This is not to discredit Hubbard, rather the opposite — to question why we aren’t celebrating Hubbard with more fullness, more wholeness, within and beyond all her identities? Why aren’t we talking more about who she is as an athlete? About her weightlifting journey — the highs and lows and hopes for the future, even if she isn’t competing anymore?

From the interviews Hubbard has had, she’s often mentioned her love for weightlifting — why don’t media outlets expand on this love more (if Hubbard is comfortable with it)? And why is it so hard to respect her privacy?

“All I have ever wanted as an athlete, is to be regarded as an athlete,” Hubbard said after her performance.

While we celebrate Hubbard, how do we stay mindful about whether the celebration is really about her, about us, or in many instances just a news outlet’s euphemistic way of perpetuating transphobia?